


I'll Be Seeing You

by II_ILYA_II



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-24 10:07:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14952620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/II_ILYA_II/pseuds/II_ILYA_II
Summary: The hunt begins.





	1. Chapter 1

                                                                                                 

A blessing, her mother called it. When Q told her mother things about her grandfather that she couldn't have known and that her imaginary friends had not been imaginary at all, her mother thought she had the gift. Passed down from generations to generations, seeming out of random. Like picking a short straw. She had sat Q down one day, hands on the small of her back, gentle and cautious she was, and told Q that she had it. As her grandmother had and someone else before that. A blessing, she said. A blessing to speak to the dead, to listen, to see.

It's what someone who doesn't know anything about it would say. Q knew as much.

Q doesn't begrudge her mother for saying them, doesn't hold her words against her, but sometimes when Q loses sleep at night from things she knew were more than eyes playing tricks, she hated her mother a little for it. It's hardly a gift if it takes more than it could possibly give. 

So Q lives with it day in and out, ignoring little odd details in reality that couldn't be possibly be  _there._  Intelligible whispers, phantom cries, or light footsteps became white noise and figures that move and twist into  _people_ became nightmares to wake up from. There is little to do but to move on and live- or surrender to whatever comes crawling underneath the bed at night. Q found it was easier to turn a blind eye to everything that was marginally strange, rather than letting her thoughts linger on them.

 Out of sight, out of mind.

 At least then, no harm will come her way.

 

 

* * *

 

It started innocent and simple enough, as it does  _most_ of the time with her.

Jane.

Q found that at least forty percent of the things Jane brings her into are likely to get her arrested or permanently disfigured. Sometimes it's both, but Q doesn't mind. Q liked the thrill, reveled in the adrenaline it brings for a short while. It makes her less reserved and isolated, more normal. Like the one time Jane had busted through their dorm room with manic glee on her face, wordlessly held on Q's hand and ran out the dorms to the parking lot where a storm raged around them. The first one after a long drought, Q recalls, one that Jane had been waiting for for a long while.

The back of Q's mind remembered the advisory days earlier. Stay inside they were told. It's dangerous outside.

_Are you insane?_

The words hung on Q's tongue, but she already knew the answer to that. Besides, there was not much to do but stare anyway. Lightning suited Jane, matched her light, her energy. Q supposed she could write countless poems and songs about her eyes alone in that moment--How they reminded Q of the lake she and her father would sit by as the sun sank on the horizon-- but found that she was incapable of doing them any justice. Instead, Q bathed in the harsh rain and felt unease leave her bones, whipped away by the gust of the wind. There were no whispers, no phantoms weeping that day but Jane's laugh over the storm. Q keeps that memory close always.

Q knows that while Jane is a force of nature herself, she is easily scared. Q has known this since the first day they met. Sometimes things go bump in the night and while most people do not have enough sense to feel them at all, Jane can, to an extent. While Q has the ability to see, feel, and hear the dead, Jane  _feels_  their existence. Her sensitivity to the other world and her eagerness to reach out to them makes her vulnerable to the things that live in the dark. Unlike Q, she is not aware of her own gift. But Jane believes in the supernatural strongly and trusts her gut, no matter how many sleepless nights and paranoia her fears bring. Their first day meeting each other was testament to that. 

They first met, funnily enough, at a ghost hunt months before they had been roommates, much less friends. It was the first one Q had gone to, coerced into tagging along. Q forgot what possessed her to go-  _a calling?  a voice from the back of her head? -_ but that doesn't matter now. They were both in their early college years, all bright-eyed and vibrating with energy the seniors did not have. At least ten people had joined, with Jane and Q being two of those split into the same group. Whatever they have began that day, born out of an argument between Jane's adamant belief with the supernatural and Q's well practiced facade of skepticism.

Jane believes relentlessly because  _there must be something else after death, Q_ and Q disregards this because she must. 

Because Q understands what Jane cannot.

Jane does not know shadows follow her around wherever she goes. Q knows this, always. Jane feels them, acknowledges them.  _Well,_ she said,  _what else could they be?_

Q understands that spirits attach themselves to Jane because she reaches out to them as they do for her, and because she reeks of  what they do not have. Life. Like parasites they take what they can until there is nothing else left to give. The light gives the dead some semblance of being alive, of existing. So they latch on to fire until it sputters and dies. It makes Q sick with worry when she thinks of it. So she does her best, disregards the existence of the dead because as long as she was next to Jane, the spirits ignore her and keeps Jane safe. 

Hard as Q tries, shadows will always linger. She knows she cannot make them go away forever.

Of course, she had considered spilling it all. To end Jane's search.  _Yes, yes, I can see them. Yes, I can hear them. Feel them. Yes, they exist. They like you, did you know? Follows you around like ducklings._ Q thinks twice, then forgets about it altogether. Knowing Jane, it would bring about more of the dead on her feet. The less she knew, Q reasons, the less interested they will be.

_Doesn't matter anyway._

Jane searches for things she must not search for. Q also understands she cannot stop her.

 

                                                 

* * *

 

"Well?" Jane raises her brows at Q, as if her earlier proposition had been about going to a beach get-away trip. Or something that regular people do over the weekend. "Matt's been asking me for the longest time and you know we haven't properly hung out since what, graduation? It's like old times, remember?" Her smile is a dead giveaway to her excitement. "Don't you miss it?"

Q doesn't miss it. She misses her old friends, but their shenanigans with forces they do not understand is what Q could live her whole life not thinking about. She feigns consideration for a moment, then folds the edge of the page she was reading and glances at Jane over the rim of her glasses, hoping the withering look she gave was enough of a hint as to what she was thinking. "I don't think  _ghost hunting_ is a proper 'weekend gig' to have for- I don't know, normal people?" Q suppresses a sigh. "I thought you left that behind after college? Besides, couldn't we just, you know, go to the beach, the museum, or maybe the aquarium like any other regular weekend?" 

Jane scoffs at this and mirrors Q's expression with her arms crossed, "You asked--No, you  _begged_  me to give you something different to do and," she gestures in Q direction, "here I am giving you  _something,_  but now-- look at you-- you're clearly chickening out."

_That's not what I meant,_ Q inwardly sighs _._

Q keeps her thought to herself and instead exhales through her nose louder than necessary, "Chickening? I can't believe you used that on me-- _Jane--_ Stop giving me that look okay? Just-- just listen," Q sits up properly from the arm chair she was peacefully resting on before Jane went in guns blazing as if she'd just made a world changing discovery, "Remember Nell's?"

Jane narrows her eyes, "Yes, what about it?"

"Overnight stay, right? You said you were chill with it, right? Except, like after we were done you couldn't sleep without the lights on and you,  _and I quote_ , 'had nightmares for days' about some  _spooky_ _kids_ , yeah?" Q raises her brows "Do you  _really_  wanna go ghost hunting?"

Jane rolls her eyes. "Yes, well, fear is a natural and human thing to feel, you egg."

The corner of Q's lips twitch with the insult.  _Completely avoidable if she'd just stop putting herself in situations that would trigger it,_ Q thinks offhandedly. She doesn't say it, and instead schools her face to mask any signs of  amusement, "I'm not mocking your fears, Jane, just reminding you what causes them. Namely _anything at all_  related to the paranormal. We've tried that stuff before and you couldn't sleep for  _weeks._  " She pointedly looks at her, "Listen, you get spooked by horror movies. If Hollywood magic can give you the spooks, I can guarantee you the real thing will scare the shit out of you. You already know that. Do you want to go through all that again?" Q's blessed few years of quiet peace seemed to go further and further away from reach as-whatever this is- resurfaces again to wreck her blissful ignorance.

"You say it like we'll actually catch something this time," Jane places her hands on her hips with a smirk.

_Oh, we always have. If only you knew._

A short pause. Then, Q grimaces "The guys you wanna play  _Ghostbusters_  with takes garbled static and creaky doors as evidence, Jane. The same guys who took us out in the middle of ass nowhere- one too many times, mind you- because they thought an abandoned building was haunted  _simply_  because people died there--" Jane opens her mouth, but Q cuts her off with a look, "The whole planet's a graveyard, Jane, and death doesn't guarantee a ghost giving a few half-drunk college kids some   _probably_  well deserved spooks."

Jane let out a soft sigh, "I just--" she shrugs. "I want you to go out more, you know? You spend so much time here alone most days and, okay, I know you don't feel like going out and I get it, Q." She spoke gently now, slow and kind, "But I just--" her forehead creases as she struggles to figure out exactly what to say, but Q already knows. Jane is an open book, in every sense of the phrase. If Q would bother, she can write a guide book on Jane's social cues, but then that would be extremely weird and borderline creepy. She doesn't know why she even thought of that.

Q sighs, defeated. "I know, I know."

"I don't want to nag, really, and be so pushy about it, but I want you to have fun with something different than sitting round the apartment watching re-runs of the same old show." Jane wrings her hands together gently. "I thought this would be familiar, you know? Brings us back together with everyone else. Ellie would want us to, I figured." 

At the mention of that name, Q's heart plummets. She pushes the feeling away and changes the subject."It's good, if you'd stay to watch it long enough," Q mumbles under her breath. "Fine. Okay. I'll give it a go-" Jane's eyes lights up, but Q immediately holds a finger up. " _Only_ a try. I'll do it this weekend, but if they take us to some run down sketchy, haunted, public restroom and pulls another one of their disappearing acts, I swear to all that is holy, Jane,  _they'll_  be the next ones haunting the place." Q recollects an " _investigation"_ their ghost hunting friends brought them to and eventually ran from (because of a slammed door, really, not even caused by a spirit but a particular strong gust of wind), that left Jane and Q wandering around looking for scattered friends. Q shudders at the memory. Jane had wanted to go, pleading with her eyes and spoke with a voice Q would always yield to. They all had been together then, with old friends they've lost contact with after their graduation.  _Until Ellie's--_ Q stops herself from thinking about it. She sighs."Just this once, yeah? And next time will be dinner, like normal people?"

Jane smiles gleefully, a barely suppressed excited giggle leaving her lips. "I promise." She claps her hands together as all was decided, her mind already miles away.

Q's face betrays no emotion, but in truth Q is terrified. Mostly for Jane, really, and partially for herself. Jane's obsessive interest in anything at all paranormal and her disposition for being easily scared conflicts with her fascination in whatever's at the end of the tunnel. That doesn't stop her from going after ghouls and specters and what-not anyway, and goes on about her whole life charging through with her head held high and her heart beating out of her chest. Q thinks her brave for it, but mostly she worries and frets. 

As Jane paces their small apartment, babbling on and on about things that made Q's skin crawl, Q feels the beginnings of regret creeping from the back of her neck, but shakes the feeling away. Jane will go anyway, somehow, some way, and Q thinks it is better if she goes along. She knows Jane, knows her fears, if years living together taught her anything, it's that Jane, no matter how proud, is stupid with these types of things. Too reckless, too eager. Q has told Jane as much, but Jane never fails to reply,  _really, like you're the poster boy for good behavior?_

Q doesn't argue with that, but she follows along anyway. 

None of their previous investigations amounted to anything more than cold spots and misidentified animal voices before. All things considered, nothing had been dangerous at all. Maybe a few instances with homeless people finding refuge in the abandoned buildings they've gone in before or just stories passed down ear to ear, completely blown out of proportion. Sometimes there had been run-ins with police, but they've all been quite skilled in running away. 

Q lets it pass, minds it very little. They have been to many "haunted" locations before, with little to no disturbances at all, so what's one more?  


* * *

 

Q feels regret once again when she spots Jane on the couch, a completely innocent thing to do, except the blaring screen of her phone presented a website full of things Q would never touch. She does a double take when she sees them, squints her eyes to see better, and pulls a face. "Is that Target? Are you shopping for Ouija boards in  _Target?_ " Q leans over her, looks closer. "And is that on the  _toy's_ section? They sell that stuff to children?"

Jane turns her head slightly and rolls her eyes. "Yes, for Halloween fun, Q. I've dabbled in it when I was a kid, just for giggles, you know?" Then she grins slyly "What's the matter, Q? Thought you didn't believe in ghosts, so what are you so concerned about?"

Q ignores that and steers the subject, a little surprised by the revelation. Jane doesn't strike Q as one to 'dabble' in Ouija boards, of all things. Even Jane's willingness to search for the paranormal has its limits, and that involved anything that could potentially be demonic.  "Color me impressed, Hartley, I don't see you as the kind of girl to 'dabble' in that kind of stuff."  She straightens herself, hangs a leg over the back of the couch to settle on the soft cushions next to Jane, who already made room. "Doesn't that open doors to let  _demons_ in?" Q waggles her brows as she says  _demons,_ Jane pulls back at that.

"Do you know about it?"

They've never really  _delved_ on it in any of their investigations in the past, just curious conversations about it that had been wholly hypothetical. Jane has never talked about it any more than everyone else did, in exception to Matt of course and Q assumed that she'd been too scared to try. Q frowns, "No, I've just heard about it way too many times. From Matt, at least, not from you. So don't mind me asking," She reaches for the remote on the coffee table and turns on the TV, a routine they've come to get used to. Thursday nights were reserved for Netflix and nachos, but they've opted out of nachos due to their mutual laziness. "You planning on using that for our uh, little expedition? That's a first."

Jane hesitates, "Don't know. I mean, I kind of want to? We've never really tried."

"Ah, so you're  _that_   _guy,_ huh?"

"Meaning?"

Q  snickers, "You know, the one that goes ' _guys, let's bring this thing that opens up doorways to hell and_ talk  _to demons' ._ The guy who dies first, right?"

Jane elbows her, "Says the only person who's ever asked to be thrown about the place--Look at me, I'm not scared, go ahead and skin me alive!" Q swats her away. "If anyone's going to go out first, it'll be you! You ask for it constantly you big hypocrite--" Jane laughs, her words not holding any bite.

Q rolls her eyes, "Yeah, well, nothing's done it before, Jane, because they don't exist." She says it firmly, stands her ground. Q promised herself many years ago to never be involved in all things associated with  _the other world_ , but when she was coerced to go ghost hunting that one day and met Jane, Jane who craves them...Those promises had gone with the wind. She'd never really expected to go do it again and again, in fact, she'd rather not do it  _ever again._ But when Jane asks, pleads almost, with her voice low and hope in her eyes... Well, it seals Q's fate. The taunting and the challenging of whatever it is they have encountered before was nothing more than a diversion, a sort of safety blanket Q resorts to when they've attracted attention. A false security. Q knows the dead, knows that even they have lines to draw. They do not dare lash out when they know they are overpowered, with no fear to cling to, not a single thing to draw energy from. So Q makes a show of herself, shifts the tension in the room, quells any residual fear, and goes about flaunting her disbelief. It makes the shadows retreat.

Jane grumbles, a little flustered, "They're very real, Q. Just because you've never seen them, doesn't mean they don't exist." She leans back and touches shoulders with Q. "You can't ignore the  _possibility_ that they could."

"A slim possibility, or maybe none at all."

"Well alright miss smarty-pants, you said you entertained any theories, right?"

Q automatically browses through the shows with no particular movie in mind as a way to distract, "Theories based on hard facts, Jane."

Jane sighs, "Someday you'll be dragged across the floor by something you cannot see, and you, madame, will eat your words."

Q shivers at the thought, "Until then."

"And you can't say it's the wind either, Q."

"Of course."

 

* * *

 

Friday morning rolls around and Q feels something akin to dread pool in her stomach. She sits on the couch, absentmindedly chewing a piece of toast as her glazed eyes stare at the TV, not paying any mind to whatever plays. Jane notices her behavior-she's picked up on subtle cues over the years- and asks, "Is the toast that good?"

Q snaps from her reverie and turns her attention to Jane, who fumbles to fix the collar of her dress shirt. "What?"

"You've been chewing on that bite for quite a while," Jane opens the fridge and takes out the orange juice to pour herself and Q a glass. "I imagine it's so good that you'd let it sit in your mouth for that long." She crinkles her nose, showing her distaste.

Q hums, no other witty reply. 

"You're uncharacteristically quiet. One might think you're nervous about tomorrow." Jane nudges Q's leg as she balances the glasses on both hands, "Scoot."

"Nervous about meeting Matt and _maybe getting murdered,_  if  _that's_  what you mean-thanks- not because we're going to look for ghosts." Q gratefully accepts the glass and slides over to her right slightly. "We haven't been in touch with him since I don't know how long ago, and I'm really hoping he's not going to ask us to trespass on private property again." A feeble expectation. "You remember he used to yell 'scatter' whenever we got caught? I haven't been doing any kind of exercise, let alone running, since fuck knows. If he drags us to do that again and cops chase us, I might just end him."

"Oh, well, he's actually got something going for him with his adventures, you know."

"You say it like it's a normal thing."

"Normal is hardly what you'd call him anyway."

Q feigns a scandalous gasp, "Your words, not mine."

Jane laughs. The sickening dread Q feels ebbs away at the sound.

 

* * *

 

When Q goes home from her work, a tedious job she's grown quite bored of, she immediately lights the incense on the windowsill of their apartment. It's something Jane had insisted upon, said that it keeps the energy of their home clean. Q did not complain. The incense does it's job and keeps the shadows at bay without Q having to do any heavy work to get rid of them. It puts her at ease, makes her sleep better at night knowing that they are safe as long as the incense burned through. Q has long ago built the habit of making sure it was still lit.

As she toes off her socks and slides them someplace else that is not in her direct line of vision, she goes about her usual routine. Thirty minutes of laziness, she allowed, and then she went on to cook dinner for the both of them. Q's no chef, but she's learned from her mother the basics of cooking. Her mother has taught her how to cook food she's grown with, from tinola to passed down recipes of Chinese dishes Q could never pronounce properly, meals she has never really took the time to master yet.Q estimates that Jane would be home in an hour or two, give or take, and thinks of what to make. 

_Ah, speaking of..._ Q fishes her phone from her pocket as she putters in the kitchen, hoping there are actual ingredients available rather than having to go out and buy them. She scrolls through her contacts and taps on her mother's icon. It rings three times then a voice answers, "Why didn't you call me last week?"

Q sighs, "Busy, remember?" She squats down and digs through the fridge in earnest, grimacing after learning the fridge lacked anything to start  _any_ kind of meal by. "I texted you?"

"No you didn't."

Q pauses, tries to remember. "Or I think I did."

There is an audible exhale over the line, one that Q recognizes as irritation and concern rolled into one. "I worry about you, shobe. You shouldn't be there by yourself--" The nickname makes Q feel suddenly homesick as memories of her childhood-- being called that by her older cousins and her aunts and uncles-- resurfaces again.

"Not alone," Q corrects. "I live with Jane...?"

"Yes, but you know how it is with your gift," Q winces from the term, "Are they still bothering you? You still have that incense I gave you? Do you need more--"

"It's all fine. Besides," Q supresses a groan, "You went and visited here before, you know it's a good neighborhood. I mean, there's  _nothing_  happening here at all. You ever heard of anything here in the news?"

"Still, you can never know." 

Figuring that the fridge offers nothing, Q slowly straightens herself, grabs her keys from the counter top and slips her coat on all while she fumbled with her phone. "Yup, okay, yeah, I know--hold on--- Listen, mom, I'll be careful, okay? We have security guards around the apartment all the time and we've got like, floodlights in the parking lot. If anyone's gonna pull a knife on me or something, someone's gonna know."

Q regrets what she said as she hears the beginning of an onslaught of lectures, " _A knife? You said--"_

"No!" Frustrated, Q half-screams it. Q has learned her mother's tendency to switch monikers depending on the level of stress she is in.  _Shobe_ she uses just as Q's  _Ang-Kong_ had called her endearingly,  _Anak_ if she's borderline hysterical as she is soon, and her real name when she is furious. Her father tries to do the same, except he butchers the words and settles instead with her full name, an ominous lilt in his voice and a glint in his pale eyes.  "No, I'm just saying that we're being watched over here, okay? No one's going to pull a stunt like that. It's safe, lots of people even walk around here late at night with their dogs. No problem at all." 

It calms Q's mother slightly and she sighs again, "If you have  _any_ problem at all, you call me. Anytime. Any day. Call me. If you want to come home, you call and your dad and I will be here."

Q smiles. "I know, mom. Tell dad I love him," She opens the door. "And tell him his hairline's receding." Q tries to settle her nerves. That little comment used to set her dad off ranting about old age and what not, it never fails to crack her up.

It works. Her mother laughs, "I think he knows."

"I can see it from here, I sure hope he does."

After having to repeat her goodbyes to her mother way too many times( _Yes, ma, I know. Yup, okay, I'll tell her. Bye now. Yeah-- Bye-- I have to go--_ ), Q pockets her phone once again and locks the door to their apartment carefully, tugging at it once or twice before leaving. She always found comfort in her mother's incessant nagging, despite the mild annoyance it gives. Q doesn't say her fears out loud, especially to her own worrier of a mother, but her mother always knows.  _Always_. The heavy weight on Q's shoulder lifts ever so slightly.

Now that she is out of the safety of her apartment, Q gathers herself and soldiers through the cold and the shadows that jump in and out of her sight. One flickering figure stares at her with curious eyes, standing directly on the path she walks on.

_Nope,_ Q thinks with finality as she crosses to another sidewalk.  _Not today._

 

 

* * *

 

 

In the end, Q abandoned the thought of cooking altogether. Instead, she lined up to the closest  restaurant they have near the apartment and ordered enough for two people. Jane  arrived by the time Q had all of the boxes opened up and ready to eat, in which Q had already started picking off a few pieces here and there. 

"My mom called, asked if you need more of those," Q says through a mouthful, pointing her chopsticks toward the incense perched on the windowsill. "Also said hi."

Jane hangs her bag on the hook by the door and eyes the littered socks on the floor, the carelessly thrown coat on the couch, some unfinished paper work on their small dining table, and the general mess Q made. "Love what you've done with the place."

"Thanks, you say that everyday."

"Yes," Jane says through her teeth, "Because you always make a mess, you infant."

"Got you your favorite?" Q offers meekly.

"You're lucky I tolerate you," She huffs. "Otherwise you'd be out of a place to make this mess in."

"Oh, you love me." Q pushes the box of pepper chicken to her direction. "Besides, I always tidy up afterwards."

Jane does not bother to change clothes first and instead sits to the opposite of Q, already breaking the chopsticks apart and diving into the chicken. " _You_ are insufferable." She retorts easily with no malice. 

"Only for you."

"Lucky me."

Q grins and then continues to shove food in her mouth, practically inhaling the contents of her own box without breathing. They sit in comfortable silence through the rest of their dinner, having no need to fill in the silence with small talk. Years living together erased any awkward need for such things. 

Once Jane finished her own box, she tosses it in the bin along with Q's own and goes back to her seat. She watches Q, now silently writing on her paperwork without any thought to the little bits of food sprinkled all over the table. Jane snorts, "Don't your bosses get angry with you when you pass your papers to them with oil stains?"

Without looking up, Q taps her temple, "Can't make your bosses angry when you finish all their workload for them."

Jane rolls her eyes, but quiets down. She's grown fond of watching Q go about her daily business, Q with her long, lanky limbs not knowing how to stay put for long and her tendency to pull faces when she does something she does not like -- _That's creepy, Jane._ Q told her once when she'd caught Jane staring-- but as always, as it is with them, the teasing does not hold any means to harm.

After a long while, Jane stands up and  putters around their small living space to pick up the mess Q left despite her insistence on cleaning it up later on. Once she is satisfied, she collapses on the couch and sighs. "As for the incense, Q, it doesn't hurt to have more."

Q hums a reply.

"Suppose we should bring some for tomorrow?"

_Yes,_ Q wants to say. Except what comes out is, "Defeats the purpose of ghost hunting if you chase away the things you hunt."  _It doesn't do shit anyway._ The incense, while it does the job of cleansing their home and keeping any unwanted guests at bay, loses its effectiveness when  _they_ themselves call and beckon for the things it's supposed to ward off. The hunt itself gives them enough power to make contact. Of course, Q had never gone to any of these ghost hunts without some sort of protection (as a back-up in case things spiral out of control or, god forbid, if they ever encounter anything of the evil kind) , be it an antique rosary (a beautiful artifact made of pearls held together by gold plates with intricate carvings) she inherited from her grandmother or a pocket sized bible that she had secretly blessed at a church and stashed deep in her bag. Q had given Jane her own as a gift once. Jane had asked then,   _I thought you didn't believe in this stuff?_

I don't, Q lied.  _But you do._

Jane had smiled at her in a way that made Q's heart flutter. She hasn't stopped giving Jane gifts like such ever since. 

After a while, Jane turns on the TV, playing an episode of her favorite show and sets the volume on low for Q. There is a lull in the atmosphere now as contentment sets in between them, a regularity in their presence together. Outside the skies turn into a mix of soft pastel pink and blue, slivers of it and the last remaining sunlight peering through their window as the Earth turns to welcome the moon and leave the sun for the day. 

 "You think you're ready for tomorrow?" Jane asks.  

Q looks up from her work, sees Jane there under twilight with a hint of eagerness in her mellow eyes and tranquility on her gentle features. Q is never ready for it, she's known this since the day they met,  but if her presence keeps Jane safe she knows she'll take the leap anyway. 

_If Jane keeps on looking, Q will follow. Q has long ago realized she'll always follow Jane be it through the end of the the universe or to hell and back._

"Fuck yeah." She grins.

Jane smiles her smile and Q thinks all is right with the world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt begins.

                                                                                              

Jane is a beacon. A continuous ray of light and warmth and life. She knows the shadows she sees are more than just that, but she goes on putting one foot in front of the other with pride and a touch of stubbornness that Q cannot help but go and follow.  Jane doesn't hide from whatever she finds, doesn't brush away the reality of what she searches for. She seeks the shadows to find what lies beyond the cloak that shelters her, keeps her safe. 

Q is not brave like Jane. Jane treads in the dark with eyes wide open and heart in her throat, no matter how much her hands shook or how many sleepless nights she's spent tossing and turning. She doesn't hide behind mundane logic ( _It's a windy night, Jane. The house is old, Jane._ ), doesn't turn away from shadows that shouldn't be  _there ._ Q wonders if Jane knows that she's the stronger one out of both of them, that it's her that makes Q step forward when's she's too afraid.

It's her that makes Q brave.

But it is Q that keeps the dark at bay. Subtlety be damned, she makes sure nothing comes close enough to even reach a spindly finger towards them. So she hides behind faux skepticism, uses sarcasm and mockeries because it makes it all the easier to pretend that none of the things she's seen are real. The shadows, the spirits, it makes them less likely to reach out when there is no one to reach for. Q uses this, turns it into her favor. 

So Q does her best to keep them away.

"This sucks ass, you realize? It's just a bunch of baloney." Q whines. 

She doesn't have to look at Jane to know how annoyed she is with her. The frustrated sigh that leaves her gives Q enough indication of it. "If you'd shut up a moment, Q, maybe they'd have a chance to talk."

"Oh spirits of the past..." Q drolls. "Speak now or forever hold your peace." 

"You're insufferable, you know that?"

It is Q's turn to deeply sigh. "Jane, we've been here in the middle of--get this-- fuck ass nowhere  _again,_ freezing our bottoms off because-- because fuckin' Venkman here thought this place is haunted by what, exactly?" An exaggeration on her part. The abandoned warehouse lies a few miles away out of the populated city, and while completely isolated and forgotten, it is certainly not in the middle of nowhere. The attraction, as it had eventually become from years of rumors circling around, has long since been left behind by the corporations that it had once served decades before. It now lies barren, except for the few mechanical machines and vandalisms  that litters inside its walls. 

"Poltergeist, I think?" Replies a distracted voice. An old friend named Matthew, or Matt he's come to be known. Ghost hunter extraordinaire. Q has long established that he cannot tell static from actual coherent voices. He holds a device in his right hand, calls it an EVP recorder.  _90% white noise, 9% living voices and 1% garbled noise resembling anything from an animal or, very rarely, actual ghosts._ Q quells the urge to roll her eyes. She's never trusted the little thing.

"Yeah? Well, where are they?" Q questions dryly. "A little late to the party, don't you think?"

Jane pinches her side then, not too hard to hurt, but enough to let Q know she is  irritated.

 _Good_ , Q thinks.

Irritated, less afraid.

Q did not have to use any devices or anything of the sort to know when they are not alone. She is not sure which of the rumors are true about the place, but she can guarantee it is not abandoned. By the dead, anyhow.  Her eyes scans around the graffitied walls of the warehouse, crushing down the need to stop and look at the shadows that held substance. Apart from the obvious and hard to ignore spirit walking among their huddled group, there is nothing else stronger that Q can detect. Nothing too dangerous, but it did little to calm her.

From what she can see, one of the figures, a frail little thing with cracked embers for skin, has taken an interest in them. It walks in a stilted manner, much like an old frame by frame movie. It might have been a girl, Q considers, if the burnt dress was anything to go by.  Q racks her brain for the unreliable history of the warehouse itself. It had obviously seen better days  and was used as an industrial factory by a company that has long since moved on. The fire that consumed it time and time again had given the location a reputation for being cursed by the spirit of a lone farmer who died in a fire at the very same ground the warehouse was built on. Q calls bull on it and blames the fires on incompetence. Nonetheless, the fires itself had taken lives, which is what Q bets her money on is the reason why the place held so many souls.

The thing near them walks unnaturally, stiff limbs and crackling joints. Q ignores it for now. Just curious, if anything, but Q keeps her peripheral on it. She huddles closer to the group, nonchalantly linking her arm around Jane's out of habit. Jane makes no attempt to move away, actually presses closer, and the move gives Q the impression she can sense the thing too. "I'm freezing," she comments to no one in particular. "How long are we going to keep this up for? Diner's still open, you know, we can just uh, eat."

"We just ate," Jane nudges her.

"Hungry again."

"Christ, you two sure are loud." Matt chimes in, "How are we going to catch anything if all I can get is you two talking over the record?" He resets the device and records once again, but not before giving a look to his audience. "I'll try this again. Are you a spirit who died here?"

Silence. Q holds her tongue a moment or two, before losing control and blurts out, "What, you think they died in Florida and took a permanent vacation here?"

"Don't be a little shit," Matt shoves her lightly. 

Q giggles at that, but did not say any more.

"If you can hear us, please do not be afraid to come forward and talk," Matt gestures to a younger man holding a camera, a poor sap named Peter whom Matt picked up fresh out of high school. Q pities the boy a little after hearing his own reason for coming along to the investigation. He wanted an experience with videography, but instead landed on a torturous expedition led by a lunatic ghost hunter with a penchant for old buildings. "The recorder I'm holding will allow us to hear you. If you want to deliver a message, this is the time to let us know."

Silence once again. 

The burnt thing lets out a choke or a cough, Q couldn't really figure out which. She tunes it out instead as she feels a chill run down her spine at the sound. To her side, Jane shivers a little. A minute passes. "Alright, let's see if we got anything from that." Matt signals for Peter to come closer with the camera and presses play.

They hear the usual steady static of white noise and their own voices at the beginning, nothing too strange, until the record nears its end and the faint noise the thing made stands out. The noise actually surprises Q, as their recorders rarely ever catch  _anything_. Matt's forehead scrunches upon hearing it and rewinds the recorder once again. "You hear that?" He holds the recorder up between all of them. "What's that sound like to you?"

"Static." Q says a little too fast.

"No, no, listen--" Matt lifts the recorder closer to Q. "At the end. Don't tell me that's static, you dick. It's different." He tilts his head. "Sounds like a voice, doesn't it? Like... It's saying 'help'?" Q pulls a face before she could hold herself back.

Jane now moves closer and listens intently, "Sounds more like a cough?" 

 _Of course she can tell what it is._ Q pulls away from the recorder and blurts, "Pareidolia."

"Pare--What?" Matt looks up at her distractedly.

"Pareidolia, Matt," Q cuts the word by syllable as if talking to a child. "Power of the mind. You think it's there, but it's only there if you  _think_ it is even when it's not. You know, like seeing Jesus on your toast or hearing your mom call you when she really didn't. It's the brain trying to make sense of patterns and the unknown. Again--this is all  _bullshit._ "

Peter lets out a snort, which earns him a smack on the shoulder. "You haven't changed," Matt remarks offhandedly as he places his EVP recorder back in his pack. "Still an asshole, huh." Jane huffs at that.

Q grins cheekily, "Oh, I'm hurt." 

Matt shakes his head, "I knew you're going to be like this, so..." He digs around in his pack and takes out a small cylindrical speaker with a small gadget-- _It is just a gadget--_ attached to it. "I brought in the big guns." He holds it out proudly like it's a trophy.

Q, a little interested, waves her hand towards the device.  She's never seen it before. "What's that do?"

"If you  _really_ wanna know," Matt smiles, glad to show off his equipment. "It's a spirit box,  allows real time communication with any spirits willing to talk to us. Compared to the EVP where we have to wait until the recording is done to listen." He methodically busies himself with the device. "See, spirits need energy to communicate, right? When you give them that, it makes it easier for 'em to reach out and connect. But sometimes with the EVP's it doesn't doesn't really come out as understandable words. But...This bad boy scans through different radio frequencies really, really fast and that gives the spirits a sort of tool to speak better to us, you know, pronounce words much clearly using the channels... like uh--"he sees Jane and Q's blank expressions. "Uh, you'll see." Without another word, he turns it on and they are plunged into a cacophony of different channels switching drastically fast from one to the next. 

It startles Q, grimacing as her senses are dulled. "Is it supposed to be that loud?"

"It's cool, isn't it?" Matt's raises his voice to talk over the rush of static. "But check this," He clears his throat. "Spirit, we have a device here that can help you speak to us. Will you tell us your name?"

The burnt thing shuffles ever so slowly to Matt as its attention is drawn. Its mouth opens and closes like a fish gasping for air, but no words come out except a strangled croak that makes Q's skin crawl. The sound did not project to the device. Q breathes out slowly, trying to get a hold of her senses, despises the chaos the box brings. She struggles not to show her discomfort, masks her fidgeting with impatience. "Well?"

Matt narrows his eyes, "It's not going to work  _that_ fast, Q. You gotta let it sit a few, let the spirits gather some energy to talk." There is an expectant silence in the room now, with Matt waiting giddily for anything to resemble coherent words and Q hoping nothing happens.

"Oh shit--" Peter slightly bows down, holding the camera to his face. "Camera just died." 

At this, Jane holds on to Q's arm tighter. Q senses her distress, notices her stiff shoulders and her pursed  lips as the atmosphere shifts. Her fear makes Q's stomach twist into a tight knot. Even she wants to make a run for it, but Q knows Jane wouldn't. At least not until some psycho comes out with a chainsaw and chases them out and kills them.

"I just put new batteries on those," Matt says, but he did not sound the littlest bit inconvenienced. If Q didn't know any better, he sounds utterly  _excited._  "Oh, here they come." 

As Peter fumbles a bit to replace the batteries in the camera, the burnt thing stops its stilted movements to gaze up at Matt, who is none the wiser. It tilts its head jerkily, the same croak leaving its mouth, and whispers harshly.  _It burns, it burns, it burnsitburns--_ Q tenses when she hears them.

B u r n s.

I t. B u r n s.

Matt gives a quiet triumphant hoot when the spirit box picks up the voice, too giddy with the evidence to realize it did not answer his question. Q would have been impressed if she hadn't been afraid. She evens her breathing, tries to discern any other changes in their environment. While the current guest they are talking to did not pose any immediate danger to any of them yet, it still made Q's heart quicken and her breath hitch in her throat. She fakes nonchalance, but finds herself getting faint. Q swallows,  _she knows the signs_ , and anticipates the oncoming assault.  Sometimes when the spirit is strong enough, or if Q accidentally touches anything with residual memories of the dead, she gets visions. Q could never control them, could never make them stop from coming. She had only ever gotten a few from her childhood--  Like when Aunt Mina passed, tripped on the stairs and cracked her head on the steps, Q touched the rails of those same stairs during the wake and saw it happen, saw her fall down, down, down-- Q blinks a little fast, shakes the memories away, but something else enters her vision and she sees-

Flames. Flames engulfing everything, destroying everything it touched. Bright red and yellow dance in a destructive swirl, closing in, closing in. Embers flicker in and out of her vision and Q dreamily pictures them as fireflies for a second, until they swarm her eyesight and she feels the ghost of flames licking the surface of her skin-- _It burns, it burns, it burns--_ and smoke fills her lungs, turns it darker than black--

"Q?"

Q realizes she had been holding her breath and lets it out slowly, feels the tips of her fingers tingle with Jane's touch. There is worry in her eyes, close to panic, and a tightness in her voice. Matt and Peter stand by warily with the spirit box already turned off, awaiting her next move.  Q subtly shoves the onslaught of babbling back down her throat and pulls herself out the vision, giving everyone a reassuring smile that doesn't quite reach her ears. "Hm?"

"You don't look good," Jane's brows crinkle. "You need to have a sit down, Q?" 

"No, no, I'm--" Q catches herself choking in her own words and clears her throat. "I'm good."

Jane dismisses that. She knows Q like Q does to her. They've spent  _years_ living together, had done brilliant (and  _stupid)_ things together, have  _known_  every habit, most of every little thing about one another-- She is familiar with Q's tendency to bottle things inside her and it makes Jane angry, if not a little hurt that Q would have the need to hide anything at all from her of all people. But if Q doesn't want to tell, Jane will not ask that of her. "Rubbish," She replies shortly, a tinge of anger laced in the word. "We've called you twice and you didn't respond, stood there staring like you're lost. You're not 'good'."

Q, properly scolded, shrugs but makes up an excuse. "I was miles away, got a little bored with listening to your toy, Matt." She gathers herself once again, back to the safety of denial. "Blacked out for a second, I think."

" _You motherfucker,"_ Matt sighs in relief. "Almost had me there, thought you got possessed or something."

"No," Q huffs out a laugh, "Just bored. What'd it say again? Burns?" She diverts her eyes away from Jane's scrutinizing ones and reverts to playing her role in all of this. "A load of shit, that is. How are you sure it's not just interference or I dunno, a channel just popping up more than the others?"

Matt sighs once again, deeply this time. "Said 'it. burns'. That's two words, put together by hundred of channels. It takes energy for spirits to manipulate the words to make sense, Q, which is why the camera died when the battery's full. It's less likely to be coincidence. Besides, it matches with the history of the warehouse, you ass, you can't deny it."

Jane squeezes Q's hand and gives her a look that says,  _we'll talk about this later._

Q squeezes back and drolls, "Pareidolia, Matt, I'm telling you."

"Unbelievable," Matt flings his arms up. "Your skepticism baffles me."

"Thank you."

"It's not a compliment."

"Ah."  
  
  
  


* * *

 

Around close to ten, they decided to move their investigation to the underground tunnels two levels below the ground level they were in before. Matt insists the activities will worsen the deeper they go all while relaying the history of every incident, mysterious or not, to everyone. Jane now holds Q's hand tightly to anchor herself to something, to stop herself from bolting altogether. Jane wonders for a fraction of a second if it's really her who's going to bolt, or Q, who looks as stiff as a plank. She notices the rigidity of Q's back, her straight face, and knows Q is bothered by something- despite Q firing witty comebacks non-stop to Matt's direction once again with ease. Her face is troubled, but by what, Jane doesn't know. Jane holds her tongue for now.

"Now  _this,_ " Matt gestures around them as they enter a smaller room in the tunnels, "Is the real deal. Like, imagine the eye of the storm. This place is a  _hot spot._ " He fixes his microphone mindlessly as he says, "People say they've been touched here before, shoved, tripped, you name it. This is one of the many active rooms in the building. Probably because there's been violent deaths here."

"Trapped in a burning warehouse not violent enough for you?" Q remarks lazily, a little dazed. "The whole place burned down, Matt, everybody died violently. What's different here?"

"No, no, Q, the fires didn't kill anybody here," Matt shakes his head. "That's on the ground floor where the employees worked the machines, no, man, this is like an interrogation room before the place became a factory."

Q frowns, "An interrogation room? For what?" She waves her hand around, "Did they like, grill their employees for asking for more vacation days or something?"

Matt cringes, "Well...Before they turned the place for factory work, it used to be an empty lot where I've read the old gangs, like The Godfather old gang type by the way, used to conduct their sneaky businesses in. " He waves for Peter to take a wide shot of the room as he runs the flashlight around them. "Records aren't very clear, but I mean, it's not unlikely. Sketchy businesses and underground tunnels in a warehouse... fuck are you gonna use tunnels for?" Q could think of many ways  _why_ they'd use tunnels for business, but she feels too drained to even try. Matt continues, "The company statement said they never built it, didn't use it at all, actually, so that dates it farther than its industrial years. Plus, when they renovated the place they found traces of  _human bones_  all over the ground and determined that they could be connected to the gangs, but there's not much to it than that. They say this room's where they had the members killed if they crossed their people, but the info's a little hazy."

"Is there any  _reliable_ information of this place at all?" Jane warily asks.

"Eh, not really, no."

As Matt points his flashlight around the room, Q's eyes land on a standing figure staring at them. Q only caught a glimpse of it for  _just_ a second, but it causes her heart to drop between her feet. "Uh...You know how they died?"

"Er, regular gang methods. Shot, stabbed, tortured... The works." He shrugs. 

 _Fuck. Fuck. What the shitting fuck--_ Q bites her tongue at the sight of the figure limping toward them now. The low visibility heightens her panic despite the light Matt laid flat on the ground to illuminate their area. It doesn't do much, but Q still sees it. The thing walks with its twisted leg dragging on the floor, devoid of fingernails, clothes drenched with fresh-looking blood, and a face so badly destroyed Q thought it didn't have any at all. Jane must feel its presence as well because she shudders and searches with her eyes for something she feels, rather than see. Matt and Peter remain oblivious. Q envies them.

"You're going to use that again?" Q grimaces when Matt pulls the spirit box out. "It's so loud."

"Yeah, well, it's a ghost hunt,  _Q._ We're not here to gawk."

Q shuts her mouth when the figure seem to skip frames and appear in front of her, all gory details becoming too clear. She feels biting cold sting her skin as its rotten breath washes over her face, breathing with a mouth it did not have. Q stares ahead and gives no indication of being aware. Beside her, Jane busies herself with making small talk with Peter. She doesn't show it, but there is fear around her and even Q could feel it, heavy and ugly, covering them like a blanket. The thing must have sensed it because it did not move from Q's line of vision, maybe staring directly or not really, Q couldn't tell without its eyes. She nearly jumps out of her skin when Matt turns the spirit box on, the noise ten times worse inside a closed space. Q focuses on the steady beating of her heart and rapidly tries to remember good, happy things. 

"Are you a spirit who was killed here?" 

The thing jerks its head sharply to the side. The light flickers.

"Are you using the light's energy to talk to us?"

The light flickers once, twice, then goes out and plunges them deep in the dark. Jane gasps softly, tightens her hold on Q's hand. Matt and Peter immediately loses their collective minds at the response, excited even, but Q just snaps, "Fucking hell, I can't see shit, Matt. Turn the lights on, will you?"

"Well, I didn't turn them off, did I?" Matt retorts. "What, you afraid of the dark, Q?"

"Afraid we won't find our way out in the dark, Matt. Afraid of getting murdered by some-- I don't know, psycho that could be hiding here. Any logical and physical thing to be afraid of, you lunatic." Q inhales sharply when she feels the presence move. "Turn them back on."

"Alright, alright." Matt grumbles.

A few minutes that felt like hours pass and they are once again in the light. Q's breath caught in her throat as she sees the thing looming over Jane, a hair's breadth away from her face. Jane does not see it, of course, but she feels the cold and the shift in pressure, as if the air thinned out. It makes Jane tremble a little, her thoughts going about a mile a minute with what-ifs-- _Maybe it's a demon? An evil spirit?--_  and Q's stomach twists at the sight. She doesn't like seeing the uncertainty on Jane's face, it doesn't fit right at all, so when the thing lifts a heavy arm and reaches for Jane with bloody fingers, Q shoves her own fears deep-deep down the back of her mind and steps up.

"Oh, spirits from beyond!" Q theatrically belts it out with as much confidence one could show and steels herself for whatever may come. There's no second thoughts, no hesitation, when it comes to something like this. There is no time to turn back. "How about you go and lift me  _high_ up in the heavens and slam dunk me on the floor, if you're real!" She wiggles her brows. "Now's the time to do it!"

The corner of Matt's mouth drags down in a wince, "Uh,  _what--_ "

The thing jerks its head again, this time turning its attention to Q while Jane looks close to exploding, either with anger or relief. Maybe both. "I hear you used to do some real bad things here. Think you can take me on?" Q walks around a little, letting go of Jane's hand and strays a little farther from the huddle they've made. "If I don't feel anything in the last three seconds, you're a coward!"

Jane looks indignant, " _Q._ You can't call dead beings  _cowards,_ that's awfully disrespectful of you." She says it in a whisper, a little scolding, but now less afraid. 

"What?" Q shrugs, "Like, I've done this a  _million_ times and none of the spooky ghosts ever tried to slam me anywhere." She points to Jane, " And _that's_  because they're not real.  _Because--_ If they are, they will definitely slam me  _at the very least_  on the ground. Otherwise, they're lame." Q finger guns with her cold, nervous, fingers. Humor was a lot easier to resort to than arguments, only because if she were to go through a more serious logical route it will trigger a discussion, which won't do them much good. It'll just prolong their stay  _and_ possibly invite more spirits to join. 

On the side, Peter is eyeing Matt and Q back and forth, unsure whether he should keep rolling and possibly be a witness to a murder or stop and maybe survive this whole ordeal. Matt gives him a look that says,  _keep recording,_ and hoped he could placate anyone  _they've_ \--He's involved by proxy now anyway-- accidentally pissed off. "Q, if I die, i'll haunt you forever."

Q walks back into their little group, hoping her jelly legs would hold out a minute longer. "I promise you I'll dance in my birthday suit in front of hundreds of people if you could come and literally prove to me that ghosts are real. Otherwise, you're just dead." She finger guns him too as she points, "And you're also lame."

In a fraction of a second, the thing shifts in and out of sight and now hovers in front of Q's face, closer than what she's comfortable with. Q tries not to give any sign she can sense him.  At such close proximity, she could even feel a snap, or some sort of electrical buzz on her skin. There is no sound coming from him, but she can tell he's utterly and completely  _pissed._ For a moment Q can't decide if she'd rather take on the silence of this spirit or the croaking one upstairs. The silence is as loud.

The tension in the room gradually splits in half as all participants in the room chuckles at Q's little show, with her raising her brows up and down comically. "See? It's all baloney, I tell you." Her mouth feels numb saying that.

Jane thwacks her on the shoulder. "And you tell me I'm  _that guy_? What with you and your invitation for them to disembowel you." Her shoulders sag in relief anyway. Jane gathers herself as Matt grumbles for Peter to collect his things so they could leave. 

Q doesn't say anything and gives her an innocent smile as the thing with them spasms in front of her. Now that the fear it was feeding on has gone, it no longer has power over them. If it were to decide it wanted to slam Q anywhere, the touch would be nothing but feather against skin. The countless interested parties that had gone before them, Q figures, had probably spoon fed the thing with their terror and horror. Their utter belief in the stories--a half-truth-- had given the thing enough power to push and prod them around like guinea pigs in a cage. The spirit now has lost its control to them and the invitation, the threat, Q flaunted around became ineffective. Any attempts to try and hurt her will be futile at this point. 

When the thing's body flickers like a candle, Q breathes easy. There is nothing to take. Q will not allow it.

 _That's right,_ she goads a little.  _Hands off._

 

* * *

 

When they lost contact with any invisible guests, much to Matt's dismay, they decided to call it a night. Jane and Q return to their apartment beyond exhausted, Q a little more so than Jane. She shrugs her coat off and flings it to the kitchen counter without any thought, Jane doing the same as her tiredness overtakes her need for organization. They both collapse on the couch, Jane slumping down with a sigh and Q laying down to dangle her legs over the arm rest. Jane does not move. 

"You wanna listen to something?" Q offers. She knows Jane is as afraid as she is, still reliving the things she felt in the warehouse. Q doesn't directly say it-- _are you okay?--_ Because she also knows, for now, Jane is not. Jane will not be for the night. Q's all too familiar with her habits, her nightmares that mirrors Q's own, and the need to be around someone tangible, someone warm. 

"Yes, please."

Q fishes her phone out of her back pocket and connects it to their bluetooth speaker. The gentle tempo of piano keys begins to play, filling the room with a beautiful melody. Johnny Mathis' voice soothes Q's frayed nerves, his song holding a special place within her. Only because Q's late grandfather liked to sing it.  It puts Q's mind at ease just for a little while. 

"You really have my mom's taste in music." Jane comments fondly. It's not the first time she's said it.

Q doesn't know what else to say to that, so she just smiles. Jane has never had problems telling stories about her mother when she was alive and Q has countless stories stored in her mind about her alone, but Q supposes that's another reason why they differ so much. Q could never talk about Ellie like that. She couldn't bear it and Q knew it wasn't fair that she can't. Ellie deserved to be remembered.  _She deserved the world._ Q thinks of a colorful little bracelet in her bedside drawer and still, after so long, mourns for Ellie in memory, but couldn't push words through her mouth without feeling the sting of regret and blame and--- Q locks all of that in for now.

They let the music play in the background, content with each other's presence. Q's thoughts drift far and she stares blankly at the window, to the stars, to the moon, as if in a deep trance. She usually doesn't allow herself to wander off too far in her thoughts, but sometimes, at times like such, she would so that she can remind herself that she is here and grounded to  _this_ reality. Jane looks down, notices her absence. She reaches out and runs her hand through Q's short unruly curls gently without any other purpose but to comfort, and says, "There's that again."

"What?"

"Miles away, really?" Jane mumbles. "You terrible liar."

Q couldn't be any more of a better liar, but she doesn't point it out. "I was bored."

Jane tugs on her hair without much force, "Being bored doesn't put you in a state like that, Q." Jane smooths the lines on Q's temple again with gentle fingers. Q's eyes, though alert, still had that darkness to them that Jane cannot take away. She sees them there too often than she'd like to, but Q puts a wall up that even Jane cannot cross. Secrets even Jane cannot reach. She doesn't push Q to tell, doesn't pick at it, but sometimes when Q stares far ahead and gets that distant unreachable look in her eyes, it takes Jane's everything not to blurt it out-- _You can tell me, I'll keep it safe--_ But she doesn't. Instead, she pulls Q back in the present. With her.

"After everything, after today, you still don't believe?" She continues. "The lights, the spirit box... Nothing?"

 _I can't tell you that._ "No." Q burrows into her spot and relishes the feeling of Jane's warm fingers on her skin. "All explainable. Faulty equipment. Coincidence. Tricky minds."

"What about what we felt?" Jane counters. "I know you, you felt it too. Think I didn't notice?"

"Underground tunnels, Jane. It was drafty."

"Nonsense."

After a pause, Q starts, "I believe you're afraid," It is soft, a little pained. Jane picks up on it. "I believe you're scared of  _something._ I believe that the things you feel... It makes you miserable." She turns her head to look at Jane. "You still think it's worth all that?"  _Just say no. Turn away, stop looking._

"Don't you want to know what happens after we've gone? If some part of us will still exist?" There is meaning behind her words. Even Jane has her own secrets. 

Q doesn't hesitate, "No. It's not ours to know." She picks at her hand, thinks of everything she's seen, and says with finality, "It's for the dead."

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW the song they were listening to is "It's Not For Me To Say", by Johnny Mathis.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A proposition is offered.

                                                                                      

When Q dreams it is grey. 

It is flitting images of faces and places she is not sure she's seen before. Lost in her own mind, wandering through thick fogs, of memories that are not hers and hers at the same time. Even in dreams, things still come to haunt her. 

Q lets it pass. Empty eyes. Burnt skin. Blood. Blue skies. Rain.

She breathes in and she smells dew. Cigarette. Rot. Lilies. Death.

They come and go endlessly. She takes them in, but wants to not remember anything when she wakes. It is hopeless. She never forgets.

Once again, she is inside the warehouse. The walls shift together and away like fragments on a distorted screen of a television that has lost its signal. The faces around her looks anguished, torn, angry, miserable. She catches a whiff of burnt hair and skin. Q almost gags, but all she does is stare. There are faint sounds of screams, of hacking coughs, last breaths. She knows there will be more to this. Q wills herself not to move, not to venture any further, but the scenery fractures and she is in the tunnels. The tunnels are dark and infinite, no beginning or an end. It is just her there and whatever lurks within the blackness that surrounds her. Q reminds herself constantly that this is all just a nightmare. There had been many others like it.

It does not help.

The darkness shifts once again, taking forms, loose limbs and faceless figures. She forces her feet to move-  _run, run far,-_ yet they do not. There is no running from it. A scream remains stuck in her throat, begging to be let out, but no noise comes out. She struggles to wrench herself out of this dream and back to the living where it is warm and safe and alive-- But the images change again and she sees a man. Q recognizes his clothes immediately. The man with no face.

He is tied to a chair, head drooping weakly as blood drips from his hands to the cold ground, and  _his leg_  is twisted so badly it made Q's own phantom legs ache. Q wants to close her eyes, wants to not look, but she stands there helplessly as the man throws his head back with a sickening crunch and lets out a bloodcurdling wail of pain, mouth opening impossibly wide. Q stares as he begins to violently quake, the chair skidding backwards with every jolt, and the rope slowly loosening. Before the rope untangles completely, the image once again breaks apart and Q staggers as a flurry of memories, not hers, flood her senses.

A woman. Green eyes. She smiles. Her face is serene. She sings beautifully.

Then-- Gunshots. Three distinct cracks. Three wet thumps and a thud. The singing stops.

Q feels loss, emptiness. Then rage. Hatred.

The smell of smoke and cigarette and iron fills the air, Q can almost taste the blood on her tongue. It changes. She smells the earth, the grass, and early morning dew. A sweet voice calls.

_Come along now, love---_ Q sees a bloody dress---  _I'll be here tomorrow_ \--- A woman runs---  _You promised---_ The voice cuts and it chokes instead. 

Q wakes. 

She sits up and runs her hands on her sweat covered face. There are no noises except the muffled sounds of a spatula scraping a metal pan. Q keeps her hands against her clammy skin and still tastes death down her throat. A breath escapes her lungs.

 

"Ah, fuck."

 

 

* * *

 

Q spends a considerable amount of time sitting on the side of her bed trying to forget her dreams. She could still smell the faint scent of blood and perfume, and the thoughts that come along with it drains her.  In her hands, she holds a child's bracelet. It is decorated with colorful plastic flowers, neon beads, and lettered little cubes. It is too small to fit around her wrist now. She holds it tight, almost in a prayer, and puts it neatly inside a bedside drawer next to her grandmother's rosary and the bible she had blessed. After a few minutes she puts on her glasses, heads to her bathroom, and fixes whatever it is she could fix about herself. She minds her messy hair that stands up no matter how much she brushes them down, washes the thin layer of cold sweat on her face, wipes the grimace off her lips, and shoos away the haunting gloom over her head.  

When Q deems herself presentable enough, she leaves her room and goes into the kitchen where the smell of burnt bacon and eggs greet her. Q's stomach twists into a knot.

"Morning, you." Jane greets happily. 

Q grunts in response.

"Someone woke up on wrong side of the bed."

Q slumps down on a chair. There are dark circles under her eyes and an unhealthy sheen  she couldn't fix away in the mirror, but she acts like they aren't there.  "You could say that." 

Jane wants to ask more, but thinks better of it. "I've made breakfast. Or... whatever this is."

She slides a plate full of darkened crisps of bacon, over-cooked eggs, and a few charred still-sizzling sausage links on the table. Q eyes it warily. "Edible, I hope?"

"Give it a try and we'll see." Jane replies smoothly, sitting opposite of Q. She has her own plate in front of her, having the worst of the bunch. "Unless you're a wuss."

"Is that a threat?"

Jane smiles sweetly. "Me? Threatening you? Oh, Q,  _never._ "

"Shut it." Q laughs, puts the nightmares away for now, and eats her breakfast as always.

 

 

* * *

 

It is around afternoon when Jane's phone rings. She scrambles to take it out between the couch cushions as it had fallen in there without her notice and sees Matt's face on the screen. Jane mouths his name to Q when she is given a questioning look.

"He-llo." She greets cheerfully, putting the call on speaker.

"The little shit isn't answering her phone." Matt says. "I've called like a billion times."

"I don't know where my phone is," Q replies lazily, eyes still glued to the TV as her right hand waves a phone around. "I think it's off." The screen lights up and reveals about nine missed calls and a bunch of messages from a caller named 'Spooky Boi'. Jane snickers as quietly as she can manage.

"Bullshit." Matt starts, "I bet that's a lie."

"Absolutely." Jane answers, "What are you calling for?"

"You'll see, when she calls me i'll totally ignore that shit," Matt grumbles to himself. "Well, listen, for dinner. Peter can't make it 'cause he has evening classes. I'm going in solo at seven sharp. Can you both come on time so I don't have to sit at a table for three all alone looking like a jilted date? Please? I'm calling 'cause I know one of you, I don't wanna name names, but uh,  _Q,_ will purposely run late to mess with me." 

"Don't worry about that, I'm sure she  _won't_ be doing such things." Jane makes a point by pinching Q right where she is ticklish. Q flinches and pushes her away. "I'll make sure of it."

"Great! Jane, you're on babysitting duty."

Jane snorts, "Only everyday."

Q pinches Jane back, "Don't bond over picking on me, you two. It won't be tolerated."

"Whatever, dick." Q  _feels_  the roll of his eyes. "Just don't be late."

 

* * *

 

On Jane's persistent pestering, Q prepared herself for their dinner an hour earlier than she usually would prepare for such things. They arrive at their destination actually fifteen minutes early, ordering drinks and onion rings for their starters. The place is casual and loud, with TV playing sports overhead and groups of people socializing freely. Q enjoys the mindless chatter she hears because it overpowers the  _other_ non-living voices she constantly has whispering in her ear. She doesn't listen to any conversations, but allows the voices to distract her for now. 

Jane and Q doesn't talk about their  _discussion_  from the night before, doesn't return to topics that gave more questions than it answered, and carries on with their night unbothered by things that needs to be addressed. Matt arrives just in time to catch them arguing over the very last piece of onion ring on their table, in which he just suggests they order more instead of fighting over the piece like morons. 

"So, how did you guys like our investigation last night?" Matt begins once they have settled, drinking unsweetened iced tea that earned him a tease from Q.  _Watered down unsweetened tea? If you wanted something tasteless just get water, you monster._

"Is that a rhetorical question," Q takes a sip of her soda, "Or are you being completely sincere?"

"Of course I'm being sincere!" Matt throws a scrap piece of paper from the straw at Q's face. 

"I can never tell with you."

"Oh, eat shit--"

Jane cuts them off before their bantering escalates to a full-blown battle--like the one they had junior year. It lasted for days, Jane remembers-- and gives them both a chiding look. "Children, children, some civility please. We're out in public."

Matt gestures to Q with his brows raised, darting his eyes to Jane and Q repeatedly. "Is that a way for you to say 'she started it' because that just shows who's the most childish between us." Q shrugs.

They bicker again and Jane just sighs.

After a few moments, the heated argument settles down to light teasing. This has always been the nature of Q's friendship with Matt: borderline enemies, but mostly just friends. It never goes too far, too close to the line, and both are content with purposely being a pain in each other's neck. Their friendship started as such anyway and the two of them went along with it.

"So, let me ask again  _seriously._ What'd you think of it?" Matt gives them an inquiring look, half-way finished with his set of chips. "Love it? Hate it?"

"Interested." Is all Jane says. "It's like any other investigation we've gone in before?"

"Yeah, but think about this--" Matt gesticulates a little wildly with a single fry dipped in ketchup. A small blob splatters on Q's face. She grimaces and she wipes it away. " _Truth Seekers_." 

"Uh-huh." Q lifts one brow. "And what is that?"

"A show. Of us." 

Q feels a particularly huge lump of burger stuck in her throat and she quickly grabs for her drink as Jane narrows her eyes to repeat, "A show..."

"Yeah...? Or is the title too cliche? I've gone and done it already, I can't just change the thing. Too much of a hassle. Besides, we've got such a nice following already... " He starts to babble on.

"Hold on, hold on," Q swallows the lump in her throat. "Are you suggesting we make a show of--of-- this nonsense you like to drag us into you loon-"

"Not  _make_ a show, Q." Matt clarifies. "I already  _have_ a show. I'm just asking you both to join me." He groans when Q pulls an exaggerated face and Jane looks at him warily. "That stuff we did last night? I had Peter edit it out a little and voila-- They loved it! Especially  _you,_ surprisingly." He nods to Q. "I think they want someone to play devil's advocate for once, you know? 'Cause I believe in that stuff, Peter does too, and you remember Steffie goes all in for that shit, and Collins is a medium of course he believes that--"

"Sorry, what now? A  _medium_?" Q could barely control the distaste from her voice. She has met countless people who have  _claimed_  to be mediums before, except those ones couldn't tell if a spirit is present even when its standing an inch away from their face. Q reckons about ninety-nine percent of them are complete bogus.

"Ah, yeah. Collins, my medium. Met him about a year or so ago, I think?" Matt shrugs. "He's been a lot of help after all this time. We go around investigating like we did last night and he strengthens the contact with his magic, you know. A little confirmation can't hurt. Plus, when we have clients he can tell if it's just the pipes or an actual haunting--"

Q waves her hand to cut him off, "Clients? You're robbing people now?" Jane smacks her on her arm, but Q leans in closer in between all of them to whisper. "Are you running a scam?"

" _No,_   _asshole._ " Matt emphasizes his favorite insult. "It's a legit business. After college I didn't stop doing this ghost stuff and actually started an investigating team. I've been doing this, what, two  years now-- And I've gathered a following. Sometimes I get messages from fans asking if I could help with whatever they have problems with and it just took off from there."

Q just stares incredulously at Matt, speechless and not knowing whether to slap him silly or shake him to bits. Jane gives her a withering look and says, "Is this why you've called us? To join your team?" She tilts her head slightly, "Why?"

Matt shrugs, "I don't know, missed you guys?"

"Really?" Jane narrows her eyes at him suspiciously, not completely taking his word for it. "I thought you just wanted to have some kind of get-together, but I didn't really expect you to come and  _hire_  us for something like this."

"Am I not allowed to miss old friends?"

Jane pauses, considers that answer, then "Nothing wrong with that. But we haven't hung out for so long, I'm just a little confused as to why you've gone and called us to join you when we used to do it so much you said it's getting boring. It's why we stopped going, right? When you called me I thought you just wanted to do it once for old time's sake, not because of a show. Besides, you seem to be getting along with your current team by the sound of it. " She looks him in the eye. "Why weren't they with us?"

"Figured it's best I introduce you guys after I got your ghost hunting legs caught up." Matt shrugs, "Listen, I know it's been a long time. We haven't stopped being friends, right? But you guys have been so busy with your lives and what-not that I didn't wanna get in the way of that. I thought about it for a long time and-- I just missed the old gang. My team now isn't so bad, but they're new faces. I was Peter's summer job, by the way, and he stayed because obviously I pay him enough. My medium stays because--I don't know-- he's just a good guy. And well, I figured a good old ghost hunting will catch  us up. Seemed a good place to start as any." He looks down on his plate, a little somber. "Been a bit lonely without familiar faces, you know? I really liked having all of us hanging out again. Besides, Steffie's been bugging me about it for a while. She comes with me now, to help with technical stuff. She's always been good at that." He doesn't continue with  _because Ellie taught her well._ Matt doesn't want to mention her name at the moment, not knowing how Q would react. He wouldn't push that for now. Even he knows where her boundaries are. "Anyway, I gave you guys a test day without the new guys just so we can warm up. If you take my offer, we'll work together, and  _bam,_ we're gold. What say you?"

Q is touched, it  _has_ been a while since their last conversation. She misses him and the rest of her friends, but he doesn't need to hear or know about that. Otherwise he'll hold those words against her like a toddler.  "Right. Well. We'll think about it? This is too much, Matt. We do have a life."

"Are you implying I don't, you toad?" Matt shoves her playfully. 

"Have you ever?" Q snorts loudly and he resorts to throwing more of his food in her direction. 

"This investigation of yours," Jane interrupts quietly. She seems to be deep in thought.  "How often do you do it?"

"Depends," Matt swats Q's hands away. "If I get a lot of requests or have an interesting case, I take it when it comes. Why? Are you in?"

"Well--"

" _Jane,"_ Q lilts her voice in a warning. She levels her eyes with Jane, hoping to all the gods that she's not planning on actually joining to become a member of a  _ghost hunting_ crew. From far away she hears the  _just this once_  and she feels a little helpless.  " _No._ "  _Not ever. You promised. Just this once. Just this once._

It passes through deaf ears.

 

* * *

 

After Jane and Matt discussed the show in depth, Jane excused herself to the bathroom in a hurry. Taking advantage of the situation, Matt edges his seat closer to Q like a schoolboy about to  tell a rather interesting secret. Q side eyes him warily, not sure whether it would be proper to smack the ever living lights out of him or let him do whatever it is he's planning on doing. At this point in the night, after Jane pleaded with her to join the team and see if they'll like it, Q feels the latter. She resumes eating her fries and allows Matt to push closer.

"So?"

"What?" Q turns to him slightly. 

"You guys an item now, or nah?"

Q chokes a little, grabs her almost empty drink and takes a quick nervous sip. " _Why are you asking me that?"_ She swats him away. "That's not something you can just stick your nose into, ghost boy."

"Christ, really? No?" Matt groans, leaning back in his chair exaggeratedly. "Fuck's sake. Let me get this through you, Q." He states it seriously, his hands  mirroring the intensity of his words. "You've been living together since, uh, freshman year, yeah? You never separated after rooming together and actually got an apartment of your own--"

"It's practical. Have you seen the current listing price? They're expensive, I can't afford it by myself. Neither can she." Q rolls her eyes. "We're saving a ton of money like proper adults."

He ignores it. "That's... Six years.  _Six years, Q."_ Matt emphasizes this by raising six fingers in front of her face. "Man, you've met her dad and all. You've even made the best of friends with the guy. She's met yours and they treat her like--like she's already part of the family--"

"They've met you too, haven't they?"

"Uh,  _yeah,_ but they treat me differently than her--"

" _Bullshit_ \--" 

"Ah-ah. It's true.  _It's true._ Don't even deny it," Matt cuts her off when she tries to protest. "And--and the way you just look at her-- All dreamy eyed and stupid looking--"

"Wow, really?" Q looks a bit peeved. She pauses, "Do I?"

"And you've taken her to  _dates, Q."_

"They weren't dates." She takes a short sip from her drink to clear her throat. "Besides, I didn't think you  _knew_  about dates.It never crossed my mind that you'd ever been to one. How would you know what they are?"

Matt's mouth open slightly, not entirely offended because she wasn't  _that_ far from the truth. He still has that unopened app on his phone and a bio he has postponed for a year now. Q doesn't need to know that so he skips right over her tiny, futile insult and says, "Oh really? They're not dates? What do you call 'em, girl's night? Are you guys just  _gal pals?_ " Matt rolls his eyes. "I don't take you as someone so dense, Q, I've been friends with you  _a long time_. I know you when you have a crush." 

"It's not a crush-- What are you, ten?" Q throws a burnt piece of fry on his face. He could already tell she's  flustered from the way her cheeks turn that funny shade of pink.

"Oh, sorry, not a crush then.  _Definitely_ not a crush." Matt nods and mocks a look of understanding. "Right, right, this is different from when you ogled at Nathan Yang for an entire month. This is  _you,_ " He points a finger, wags it annoyingly. "Being oh so in love--"

Q throws another fry at him, "Oh, fuck off--"

"It's true, and you know it." Matt tilts his head. "I've seen you. Don't think you can hide that shit from me." Frankly, Matt thinks he shouldn't really be meddling with their relationship, but if he's being completely honest their whole ordeal shouldn't be this hard to  _figure out._ He's been with them long enough--Eight years of friendship with Q and six with Jane- and could tell a vast difference between being strictly  _friends_ and being something  _more._ Though, he likes to pick and prod at it sometimes, just to  _hurry things along._ He's almost impressed they've been at it for so long, he'd estimated that they should've figured this out way long ago, but-- He knows Q and he knows Jane. Of course it wouldn't be easy. And of course neither of them would say  _anything._

"I'm  _not._ " Q pinches the bridge of her nose, almost up to her limit. He's not exactly wrong, but she's not about to admit that outright. She doesn't even know if Jane's ready for the idea of being in a relationship with someone again and Q's really comfortable with where they are. Q doesn't want to destroy everything they have  _when_ she screws everything up because she  _knows_ she somehow will. She's had the unfortunate fate to pick the short straw in  _everything_ ,so going by that logic, she knows deep in her heart she's going to get fucked over by the universe anyway.

"Denial is once step closer to acceptance, Q."

" _Oh my god,_ " Q groaned. "Are you going to  bother me with this the whole night?"

"Oh, just admit it, you lovesick fool." Matt theatrically says. "You are in over your head."

"Quick suggestion, Matt, if I may," Q deadpans. "Shut the fuck up?"

"You both seem to be having fun," Jane warily comments. Q eyes her carefully and hope she's heard nothing at all. "Nothing like two  _twenty-four_  year old grown adults acting like they're six in public. Do you know how much food you've tossed around? Didn't your parents ever tell you not to waste food?" She brushes one lone fry off her seat. "The bartender over there has been giving you both the evil eye for a while. I'm sure he's right up done with you."

Q freezes instinctively and stops the urge to grab Matt by his collar and spin him around like a ceiling fan until he disintegrates completely out of sight. "We... Were  _talking_ about the show," She nods her head slowly towards Matt's direction. "And about his uh, medium."

Jane raises a brow and her eyes go back and forth between them. "O-kay. Good. That's great, that you're interested, I mean." She pushes her seat forward and sighs at the mess on the table. "I hope you're both aware you're grown adults with debts and bills to pay. This is beyond childish."

"Mhm." Matt nudges Q not so subtly. "Grown adults. Yes, that, we are. Which is  _why_ we should deal with our unresolved conflicts like adults and get them  _over with._ "

She narrows her eyes at the both of them. "Have I missed something?"

"No," Q says as nonchalantly as she could manage. "You didn't. He's just being stupid. Look at him." 

He flips her off.

Jane feels it's a lie, but finds herself too uninterested to try and get any kind of response from the both of them when they're in the middle of their bickering. If she learned anything at all from the past, it's not to get in between their little fights, otherwise she'd be sucked into it. Instead of bothering with it, she tries her best to babysit not just one, but two toddlers throughout dinner. She expects the night would end as chaotic as it has always been when they're all in one place at the same time.

Nothing new.

                                                                                        

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q and Jane meet the rest of the crew.

                                                                                          

Another two weeks pass before Jane receives the call from Matt. The call has long been awaited, and Jane would have been excited, if it hadn't been done at exactly two in the morning on a particularly busy week. She had been staying at her work later than she usually does due to some mishaps in her department's passed reports, which completely sucked all her energy. The call coming in at two in the morning while she's only had about three hours of sleep so far, turned Jane's mood dark.

When the phone rings for the umpteenth time, Jane hastily grabs her phone from her nightstand and with seething anger she edges out, " _What?"_

"I've got a case for you, Janey." Matt sounds utterly awake and all too lively for someone to be awake at this time, which gives Jane a sneaking suspicion that most of this energy came from coffee or some other concoction Jane no doubts Matt invented to either keep him conscious or accidentally put him to sleep permanently. With Matt, the chances are fifty-fifty. "You in?"

" _Of course_  I'm in." Jane almost snarls, "Couldn't this wait until morning?" Her clock reads 2:05 am.

"Is it not morning?" He sounds almost cheeky. 

"I've got to go to work earlier today. On a Wednesday. I'm running on a total of six hours of sleep in between _two_  days, you  _idiot_. My brain's melting in a pot and I'm feeling a little homicidal." She edges the words out between her teeth, her mind teetering between being awake or not at all. "This can wait until  _later_ in the morning. Call me again when I don't want to murder you."

"O-kay. Goodbye." He ends the call without any other smart replies.

Jane chucks her phone out of sight and goes unconscious the second her head hits the pillow.

 

 

* * *

 

 

When Matt calls again, albeit hesitantly with a bit of fear, Jane accepts the call as her usual self. She is all nice pleasantries and her regular happy self, a version of Jane Matt very much prefers than the unwanted demon that answered her phone hours before.

"Good morning," Jane chirps joyfully.

"Uh. Good... Morning?" He waits. "Are you feeling less like a murderous demon and more like Jane?"

Jane hums happily. "I've got coffee and breakfast in front of me. So, yes, I'm feeling less inclined to destroy you." She pauses as she takes a bite from her waffle. "What's the plan, then?"

"Right. Good. I've got a great one. Man, just wait 'til you hear about this." Jane hears keyboard keys clacking and a mouse clicking. "Um, one from my viewers. Lives by a good two hours away from me... Uh, we've got the regular symptoms of a haunting...But--"

"You've taken two weeks just so you can take an easily explained case?" Jane sips her coffee and makes a face when she realizes it's over brewed. "Should I just stay in?"

"Er, no. I wasn't done yet, hush." There is more clicking of the mouse. "Apparently, there is--the client's words, by the way, not mine--a demon-like growl coming from their basement that would echo in and around their rooms at approximately midnight, give or take. He also says his sisters hear voices, footsteps, and knocking. Around the same time too, but he says only his sisters hear them." He hums a little as he reads over the message. "The worst, though, is the thing they think might be in their basement. Their dad only went there once to figure out what it could be and got so spooked he doesn't even want to go down there anymore." Matt scans through the description once again to repeat them to Jane, "This is what got me, Jane. How the dad described the thing. He only caught a small glimpse of it because it was moving  _so fast_  and I swear the way he just describes it is... Like straight from The Ring."

Jane is silent for a few moments, then, "The Ring... Like the movie with the long haired girl, white dress, crawls from the TV? That girl?"

"Yeah."

"Could you... explain."

Matt rubs his hands together, "This is straight from the mail they sent me, okay. I'll repeat it to you, word for word, and you tell me what  _you_ think."

"Go on."

"'Hunched back, crawls on all fours, glowing eyes, black hair covering its face...'" He scrolls down some more. "'Lets out this really terrible, screeching sound' when the dad tried to approach it. I'm guessing it's what's making all the noise at night. Even the son, our client by the way, heard it through the door. It was the loudest he's heard it when the dad went to the basement to check it out  _and_  apparently it disappeared into their storage boxes... Just...  _Disappeared_. Like the thing just Houdini-ed it. Poof. The dad didn't stay long enough to come looking for it again. It was dark and he didn't have anything to protect himself with, so like any person with common sense, he booked it."

Jane is silent once again, trying to process this information that she's only ever heard on TV. "Maybe..." She tries to rationalize the information. Even that sounded way too surreal. "It's an animal? Have they tried calling animal services?"

"Yep. Called it in, animal service sends in this guy, but he comes up with nothing. Guy didn't even stay in too long, the dad says he might've seen something too."

"Matt, I don't want to be brutally mauled by an unknown animal in someone else's basement and I'm sure you don't either. Besides, it doesn't sound like The Ring. It sounds like you're talking about the  _chupacabra_ , or something of that kind. Are you sure that... It's not a prank of some sort?"

"Shit, that'll be  _way_ cooler than finding some ghosts..." Matt mumbles thoughtfully. "Anyway, I don't think it's a prank. I've never really had any problems with clients punking me for fun, besides, he even attached a picture of his family here. He sounds genuinely in need of help." He taps his desk with a forefinger three times out of habit, "I mean, it could be a case of misidentification.  _Those_ I've had before. Many times. It all works out in the end anyway. We go in, investigate, Collins comes up with nothing, we investigate some more, then... Voila, it's just the pipes. Or the vents. Or most of the time, human nature. Paranoia, shared hysteria, that kind. It's not always spooky, you know. We're  _Truth Seekers,_ not  _just_  ghost hunters. Well--Okay, we're mostly ghost hunters, but that's beside the point. With a medium like Collins, it's easier to figure out if it's paranormal or not. He's an open minded dude. Q should take a seat and jot some notes."

"That, she should." Jane agrees. "Suppose we can do it. When would it be?"

"Saturday, I guess. I still have to research about the house and lot, the previous families, the current family, etcetera, etcetera. It's pretty standard stuff." He types on his keyboard quickly to give a confirmation to their new client. Upon sending the message, he sits back in his chair with a tired sigh and lifts his feet up his clattered desk. A few scattered paperwork, worn down pencils, nearly empty bags of chips, and lovingly taken care of books lie messily on his work space. One of many reasons why Matt and Q never tried rooming together. Their disorganization combined brings about more chaos. "Q awake yet?"

"She's off to work early today too, I'm afraid. Why?"

"Well..." Matt hesitates. "I've got everybody coming with us this time, including Collins. He's a little defensive about his thing, see, and I don't want Q trampling over him. You know Q, she's not subtle about letting people know what she thinks of mediums. I don't want her running off mine. He's a nice guy, a little eccentric and guarded, but he's a medium so I expect nothing less." He sighs. "Could you tell her ahead of time to tone her attitude down? Otherwise, I'm shit out of luck here. Genuine mediums are hard to find."

"Of course." Jane glances at the clock and finishes her breakfast quickly. "I'll tell her to behave nicely. That girl doesn't play well with others."

A pause. "Yet here we are." 

Jane laughs, "Well, we're the lucky ones."

Matt smiles subtly. Q's an ass sometimes, but with every shit Matt has gone through, Q's been there. "Can't argue with that." He taps his pen, "I wonder--" There is a long pause this time, "Hm."

"Wonder what?" Jane distractedly asks as she scrambles to stuff her necessities inside her purse in a hurry, already placing her dishes in the sink and toeing black stilettos on. She nearly topples, but steadies herself on the wall. 

Matt hesitates, considers if it's a good idea to meddle. It's easier to talk to Q about it since he's always been good at disguising it as a tease, but Jane's been more private with him than Q ever was. Nonetheless, the nature of Q and Jane's relationship has always been a tricky subject for Matt. Obviously he supposed that it's not really his place to force things to come along, but as their friend, he just really,  _really,_ wants them to figure it out. Whatever they have together has long been put off, and frankly, if they don't start figuring things out, they're going to miss their opportunities. He's not much into relationships, but he's not naive to it either, and he's seen the way they've gotten along all those years ago. Matt knows  _for sure_ that Q is in over her head, whereas for Jane, well, he can see it there too. Matt thinks they can find peace, maybe, instead of having to tip-toe around whatever this is. Though, he thinks, there could be other reasons why they won't do anything. That reason, however, he doesn't know.

"Nothing." He says nonchalantly, "It's for something else." 

"The both of you," Jane shakes her head. "All secrets and what-not. Rather unfair. I'm hardly a mind reader, Matt, but I know when you say 'nothing' it means something. Does this have to do with what you and Q were talking about last time? She's not a very good liar."

"Nope, I was just thinking of what equipment to bring for Saturday."

Jane lets this pass as she will be late for her work if she stays playing charades any longer. "If you say so. Listen, I've got to go. Late for work."

"Right, don't forget to tell Q she's gotta be less of an ass and more a decent person."

"I'll try. No promises."

 

 

* * *

 

When Jane arrives home hours later with take out bags looped on her right wrist and her purse in another, she finds Q lying down lazily on the couch stomach down and feet swinging. She holds her phone in a position Jane assumes might not be the most comfortable and has her earphones in both of her ears, intently watching whatever she has now found to entertain herself with. Jane toes off her heels, feels the immediate relief when her bare feet touches the soft carpet, and walks over to the kitchen to place all of the bags on the table. She is quiet as she takes all of the boxes out of their respective bags methodically, a little drained from the endless pile of papers she had to fix due to some co-worker of hers not being bothered enough to do their work properly. 

"Have you seen the show?" Q asks a little too loudly, miscalculating the volume of her voice as they are muffled by her earphones. 

Jane taps her ear and Q pulls the earphones off. "A bit, why?"

"You want me to say it?"

There is a short pause. "Well, have at it. What do you think?" Jane sits on her regular spot as Q struggles to roll off the couch and pad over to the kitchen where she lands next to Jane. She holds her phone up to show Matt's blog, a--impressively enough-- professional looking site with a simple interface that doesn't well fit into a ghost hunting show. 

"I'm a little entertained."

Jane pulls back, a little surprised. "Oh. Good. I'm amazed you didn't say anything negative."

"Yeah, me too." Q digs in the plastic bags and grabs a plastic fork underneath a pile of napkins. "So, I can admit it's not  _as_ bad as I thought it was. I just keep remembering the shit we used to do back then when we just went into places willy nilly as long as it looked  _kinda_ haunted. It's always  _oh there's a ghost here, there's a ghost there_ like logic just decided to take a vacation. This time, he  _actually_ checks for  _real_  explanations rather than jumping into conclusions. Even  _I'm_ amazed."

"Oh, I'm so proud. Say it again so I can record it for Matt."

"No, thanks. He doesn't need it to inflate his ego." Q stabs an especially juicy piece of shrimp from her box and pops it in her mouth, chewing as she continues, "But-- About that medium he has. Not doing it for me. You remember that lady that came with us one time? She mentioned so much ghosts you'd think they're having a rave in the building. She just spat out every textbook ghosts she could remember. I'm betting... His medium's the same."

"Oh, hush." Jane chides. "You can't possibly judge without having met him yet. You're not an expert on the matter, are you?" She sits up properly and looks at Q sternly to catch her attention. "Speaking of which,  _you_ will play nice with the medium. No snarks and no witty remarks out of you. Matt asked me to tell you specifically since you're a tyrant and can't play well with others."

Q has the gall to look slightly offended, "Who do you think I am, a heathen?  I'm friendly and lovely, Jane. You've actually hurt my feelings."

Jane gives her a scoff that sounds a little like a laugh. " _Of course you are_ , darling." She looks doubtful. 

Q's stomach does flips at the endearing nickname, but she buries it all down with some more pieces of shrimp. A wise man once said to bottle it all up, and then one day, she'll die. "Did he ask you to sew my mouth shut too while he's at it?"

"Do you think he doesn't know it won't stop you anyway?" 

"It'll give me a reason to glue his hands together again. Like Danny Devito." Q cackles. "Remember Anthony's? He was so  _drunk._ "

Jane laughs, "Okay, well, that was kind of funny. But it's best not to do it again." She reminisces to a time when they visited a senior's graduation party and all their friends had been juniors just buzzing with the need to party or die. Matt drank like a monster as if his finals weren't just two days behind and decided it would be absolutely hilarious--which it  _was_ \-- to super glue Q's things on the ceiling fan and turn it on turbo. As retaliation, when they were on their way to delivering the shitfaced Matt back to his room, Q super glued his fingers together, tucked him in to bed, left an  _unopened_  tab of alka-seltzer on his nightstand, and wrote a colorful note on his forehead. Like a brave soul, he proudly walked on campus the next day with Penguin fingers and a half-erased note on his forehead  _and_ had casually asked Q to  _please take my notes for me because I must have drank a lot of weird shit last night so now I have flipper hands._

Jane continues, barely unable to control her fit of laughter, "I'm surprised both of you can still tolerate each other after all of that. It certainly wasn't the worst you've done to one another."

"Oh, I love him very much. Don't tell him that, though. His head will grow ten fold and he'll never let me live it down." Q shrugs. "He's as much an asshole as I am, okay."

" _Yes, he is._ " Jane agrees. " _But_ if he could be open-minded and as polite to the medium, then you certainly can do it too."

"Right, right." Q raises her hand. "I promise I'll be tolerable."

Jane gives her a look. "I'm sure you can do better than that."

"You want me to actually be likable? To a  _medium_?" She air quotes when she says 'medium'.  "That's way past my quota, Jane." 

When Jane intensifies her expression, Q sighs and suppresses the urge to roll her eyes. "Right. I promise. Cross my heart."

"Good."

There is a long amount of pause in between them as they continue to eat and Jane thinks that's that, but then Q adds, "If he spouts some bullshit though, I'm ripping the guy apart."

Jane sighs.

"For Matt. Can't have him bamboozled." Q reasons sincerely. "'Cause I love him very much."

"Good friend you are."

"The best there is."

Jane snorts at this and continues eating her portion as Q gapes at her in disbelief. 

 

 

* * *

 

Saturday comes around quickly enough, a chilly late afternoon just below forty degrees out in the middle of a suburban neighborhood with white picket fences, two story houses, and beautifully paved lots. Q does not mind, for once, where the investigation takes place. It's definitely an upgrade from decrepit lots. She'll take this over those anytime. The houses lay symmetrically aligned all over the street with colorful little quirks here and there, making it look like paradise as the sun gives it one last shine before night takes over. Q imagines living in a house with Jane, a few dogs, a few cats, maybe some birds because Q  _loves_ the birds, but she thinks of the mortgage and throws that dream in the trash. 

When they arrive at their agreed location, Matt and Peter are already there. Both covered in layers and layers of jackets and scarves, busying themselves with transferring their heavy equipment inside the said house. With them, Steffie, Matt's step-sister, a short girl with wild curly hair blowing in the wind, hauls a dark plastic box twice her size over her shoulder like it is nothing. Their parents, Matt's father and Steffie's mother, married when Matt was in middle school. Matt is eight years her senior and having had no other siblings, he has come to spoil her constantly.  He babies her, frets when she goes out late at night with her friends, spoils her with gifts once he got a job at a chain restaurant during college, and if Q remembers the story correctly, cried in joy when he received the news that he will have a sister soon. Q thinks it is certainly cute, thinks of them as a mother hen and one lone chick, because she's never had siblings of her own and watching Matt and Steffie interact makes her wish she had one. Except her parents told her once she'd been too much of a handful to try and possibly  _get another one of her._ Q wouldn't argue with them about that.

Steffie squeals when she sees Jane and Q walking up to the house, dropping the huge container on the ground and running to the both of them full speed. She clashes against them both, smiling a wide smile. "Oh, I missed you guys!" 

Jane hugs her back tighly, "We've missed you too, Duck."  She uses the moniker endearingly, a name in which they've jokingly called her when Matt brought Steffie once to an amusement park with them during their Sophomore year. She never once strayed away from Matt's general area and followed him around like a duckling. 

Q groans at the iron grip Steffie has around her. "Question. Are you doing some body building because  _you are fucking strong._ " She laughs breathlessly, "Man, you've got  _arms_. I saw you carrying that box like it's nothing. At this rate, you can one punch Matt and he's gonna pass right out."

Steffie laughs, "Oh, you know. Just casual weight-lifting for fun."

" _Casual_ , you say." Q loops an arm around her shoulders as they walk back to where everyone else is. "I bet you can put Matt to sleep in two seconds, tops." She raises her voice when Matt comes out tinkering with a camera. "Go on, see, he's even got a camera to record this. I'm willing to pay a whopping ten bucks to see him knocked out."

"Don't tempt her like that," Matt almost pants, exhausted from dragging equipment around.  "You ever tried boxing? We joined this club for fun and I got paired with this beefy dude. He just had to land one on me and I almost cried. It was horrible. I switched to a regular gym the next day, man, I'm over it."

Q whips her head quickly to Steffie, " _Tell me more._ "

Steffie's lips quirk slightly, "Gosh, I wish I'd seen it too, but..." She shrugs, but gives a thumbs up that only Matt could see. 

Q sees Matt visibly shudder as Steffie leads them inside the warm living room decorated with antiques and other expensive looking items Q notes in her head not to touch. While the antiques have a small chance of containing residual memories, Q does not want to risk blanking out once again in an investigation. She's done very well in hiding and avoiding such occurrences in the past, but she'll take special care as now,  _apparently,_ there will be a medium with them. Q gives the man a benefit of the doubt as she cannot judge whether he is genuine or just out tricking people into thinking he's got the eyes for seeing the dead without having met him first.

As she carefully avoids strings of wires running all over the ground, she spots a tall man talking to what Q assumes is the haunted family. His look is entirely professional, straight back, a simple black turtle neck sweater, black pants and dress shoes. His fiery sunset colored hair is swept loosely to one side and his eyes, a piercing pale blue like glass marbles, looks on clearly and with purpose. The family listens intently to whatever it is he is saying, nodding every now and then, and gathering themselves together to collect their bags. From what Q's heard from Matt, the family will be taking leave to a family member's house for the night while the investigation is being done. Q is impressed by the amount of professionalism in the investigation so far, as they've never gone to investigate a stranger's house before. Their expeditions had all been done in abandoned, dangerous, and falling-apart buildings without any kind of permit to enter at all.

While Q determines what to make of all of this, the man glances up and meet eyes with Q. Q doesn't know if it's because she's not sure whether he's an actual medium or because he looks at her like he already  _knows_ about her secret, but there is something in his eyes that makes Q feel a little intimidated. She makes a split second decision and approaches him as friendly as she can possibly manage while trying not to look to cagey or too cynical. 

"Hello." She raises her hand for a shake. "I'm Q."

He clasps her hand firmly, Q jolts at the coldness of them, and shakes. "Q?" 

"Er, yeah. Not that my parents named me with a single consonant. It's just a nickname." She shrugs, trying for a normal conversation. "Uh, you?"

"James." He replies shortly and eyes her warily. Q hopes that it's because she's coming out weird to him, not because he's already figured her out. "Matthew has taken a liking to calling me by my last name. So I suppose you can call me by Collins as well."

"Sure." Q nods, racking her brain for more conversation starters. Q's always had trouble with making new friends because she knows she's notorious for being able to end every kind of conversation dry. She's lucky enough to have become friends with Matt and Jane through Ellie.  "So, how did you guys meet?" 

"A rather long story," The corner of his lips twitch into what Q thinks is a ghost of a smile. "One I'm sure he'd be more than happy to tell once this is all over."

She wants to push and prod him to tell everything, but again, reminds herself that she will be tolerable for everyone today. Q continues the small conversation with him as Jane approaches. "Hello, getting along well?" She smiles brightly. "I'm Jane. Jane Hartley."

Collins nods and returns her pleasantries. "Suppose Matt already informed you of my... Abilities?" He asks warily.

"Yes, he has." Jane confirms with a kind smile. "I'm sure we'll need it for tonight. Matt tells me that there might be something down the basement, have you checked?"

"No. Matt's adamant about not going into locations alone, so I'm waiting until the investigation starts."

Q doesn't say anything at this point, blocks their conversation out of her head and feels for her environment. She excuses herself from them, receiving a strange look from Jane, and goes walking around the living room looking at the family pictures,--three young girls, an older boy, and parents-- some random souvenirs from different countries, and other decorations. The walls are littered with so much knick knacks that Q wonders how they clean everything. Q pretends to take an interest in a weird looking blob of a sculpture to tune herself in with the atmosphere, begging to all that is holy that this would be a quiet night. As Collins mentioned beforehand, there is nothing to feel at the moment. Q considers his authenticity for a moment, since usually, as far as mediums she's ever met go, this place would already be teeming with every scary ghosts conceived. So far Q could not hear even a single whisper or any of the said problems mentioned and maybe Collins is as he seems. Maybe he's part of that one percent.

Despite this, Q continues to search and feel for her surroundings methodically, pausing here and there to listen intently. She does this every few moments, until Matt enters once again and begins to usher everyone back into the center of the living room where all of the equipment are carefully set. He has a camera in one hand and a flashlight in the other, much like Peter and Steffie. 

"Gather around, gather around, you too," Matt nods to Q. "Now, quick review. We've got a family of six having problems with something in their basement. There's some growls, scratching, knocking around. No other indication of stuff moving around on their own, things going missing, or electrical interference, so that's something to take note of." He pulls out a piece of paper, shows a child's messy drawing. On it, a darkly scribbled figure with horns is drawn next to the family, who all have eerily haunted faces. "This is by the youngest daughter, Leia, and by youngest I mean by like  _a minute_. As you've already seen, the girls are triplets. They stay in one room, hears the same voices, footsteps, and knocking, but the rest of the family can't hear it. The mother says it's because they're young, and young kids are more susceptible to anything supernatural."

"Or have active imaginations, you know, like...Kids." Q says. She doesn't completely dismiss the possibility that what they've seen could be real, god knows she's had her fair share of adults waving her words away like she was just a troubled child. Which, she was. Very, very troubled. They've chalked it up to having an overly active imagination too. Only Q's parents knew what it really was.

"Yup, thought of that." Matt sails over her comment easily. "It's better safe than sorry. So, main issue is the basement- because one of them has actually seen something there. No apparitions has been seen everywhere else in the house, well... Hold on, okay, sorry-- The girls  _have_  in their room. But  _only_ the girls. If it's their imagination, then  _great_ because I absolutely do  _not_ fucking want to see  _this_ in person." He lifts the drawing up in the air again before folding it back into his pocket. 

"And the history of the property?" Collins cuts in. 

"Built in the early fifties, first family lived here about... Eh, twenty years or so. Sold it to another family of four, a single dad with three kids. Two of the kids unfortunately died due to an accident in the  _actual_ property. The dad lived the rest of his life here, until he died and passed the property to his only son, who then sold it to another family. No other records of death after that. The house was flipped in '09, and in 2013, the current family bought it." Matt tries to remember any other details. "No history of violence, anything that could probably leave behind something so dark. The kids are the only reported deaths, unless, you count deaths  _before_ the house was built. I don't have any information on that. You think that could be it?"

Collins shakes his shoulders a little, "Perhaps. And you said the family bought it in 2013?"

Matt nods, "Yup."

"That's quite some time in between. They didn't have any problems the first five years?"

"Huh, no. Everything's recent, started about three months ago. First the scratching, then the growl, then the rest came with it."

Collins turns that information around in his head carefully. "I need to investigate more before I can draw any conclusions."

Matt finger guns, "Cool. We'll definitely do a lot of that later." He claps his hands and grins, "So. Now that we've reviewed everything, let's talk about  _equipment--_ "

Q blocks him out. Partially, at least.

She tries to focus her hearing to tune out any regular noises and listen for any unusual voices. So far, she's only noted of a few creaky boards she's stepped on and a little vibration from the walls, but that could be plumbing. No voices, no scratching, nothing at all just yet. Of course the absence of such things so early on in the investigation does not mean nothing is there. Nonetheless, Q stays in the middle and tries her best to figure this out. 

On the corner of her eye, she sees a blur of orange. She glances to its direction subtly and sees Collins there listening to Matt with a passive expression, eyes alert and concentrated. He shifts his position and Q looks away. Q does not know what to make of him yet, whether his claim is real or all a hoax. Perhaps he is just like her, gifted--No, not that.  _Cursed_ \-- to see what things lie beyond the veil, a constant reminder that all life ends here. Or maybe he is not at all what he says he is. Maybe he is a liar like all the ones Q has seen, ones who once promised her that they know the pain, the dread, and the burden of all of this.

Empty promises, they were. 

Q snaps out of her thoughts when she hears Matt nearing the end of his long passionate speech about his favorite spirit box. She straightens her back, accepts the flashlight Steffie places on her palm, and pretends that all of this is fine. It's like any other they've gone in before, in fact, it's even better. No cracked walls, cobwebs, and unstable buildings this time. Despite that, she still feels the tight knot settling deeply in her chest.

When Q notices Jane is looking at her, she hides her trembling hands behind her back.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and constructive criticisms are appreciated.


End file.
